


Common Mistake

by FlyingFleshEater



Series: Simple Parts [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Deja Vu, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, implied self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFleshEater/pseuds/FlyingFleshEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time I'm going after everything that I've ever wanted. This time I'll show you what I can become. Things aren't so bad. They're just harder until they get better. Things aren't so sad. They're just lighter then heavier than ever. Sequel/prequel to Simple Parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly moving this whole series over here. I've decided that even though I wrote Simple Parts first, Common Mistake is really where it starts, so it'll be the first in the series even though it isn't finished yet. If you're just now coming across this series, you should probably start with Simple Parts.

_Don't know where you are_  
I've traveled so far  
I just want you to see  
What you once saw in me

**x**

In high school, fifteen weeks would have dragged by slower than she could have stood. Now though, in college, Rachel felt like she had barely started and already her first semester was over. And just in time for Hanukah too.

She didn’t quite understand it, but even though Lima held everything that was truly _home_ to her-- her fathers, her nice comfy bed, her old friends, the familiarity that only came from a lifetime in one place—she felt almost out of place among her old trappings. New York was what she had always wanted, and she had it and it was glorious. She knew only too well how some things that she had wanted desperately didn’t quite measure up once she grasped hold of them. New York wasn’t like that.

Rachel wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she had trouble making friends. A mixture of her extreme talent and drive to succeed usually put a damper on any friendships she could create with normal people. The fact that her school was full of extremely talented individuals did not make her feel like she would be more successful than in high school. In fact, she had anticipated it being much worse.

When it came to her classmates, her prediction held true. The level of competitiveness within her major was insane. Everyone was vying to prove themselves and it led to a measure of hostility that was not dissimilar to what she had suffered at the hands of her high school tormentors. But classier. _We’re all adults here, after all._ Only the best could succeed, but if the best were to suddenly get food poisoning…well…

Among her roommates, however, this had not been the case. Her dorm separated students into groups of eight that all shared a suite. The eight of them would share a kitchen and living space and there were two bathrooms. Some suites had four double occupancy rooms, but some, like the one Rachel lived in, held four single occupancy and two double rooms. Rachel’s fathers had been willing to spare the extra expense of getting her a single room, which was very difficult for a freshman to achieve, no matter how much money was spent. Seniors and juniors tended to grab them up as soon as possible, but apparently luck had smiled on her. This was proven further when she actually arrived and found that of the seven other women, only one, Paige, shared her major and she was a senior, and thus, above being petty to a freshman. Five of her roommates had lived together the previous year and all got along famously, the other two, Dina and Amanda, were freshman also, though they were majoring in music rather than drama.

She got along passingly well with all of them, and very well with Audrey and Theresa.  They all did things that got on each other’s nerves of course. No one appreciated Dina practicing outside of the designated practice rooms on their floor. Theresa and Rachel both sang very early in the morning, and tended to clash in style to a degree that it made the resulting noise nearly unbearable. Amanda had a nasty sense of humor that reminded Rachel a lot of Santana, though it tended to be directed at everyone and not just at Rachel. She also had a cat named Sidewalk that she had deemed fit to sneak in, though animals of any type were not allowed in the dorms. It wouldn’t be so bad if the animal wasn’t downright nasty to all of them. Paige’s boyfriend was over more often than truly necessary, always taking food out of their fridge without asking. Callie made endless amounts of noise, no matter what she was doing. Audrey was a terrible gossip. And then there was Kenny, sweet, beautiful, classy, but whose farts smelled like something had died. She was not at all shy about letting one loose in the common room.

Rachel sighed. She missed her friends. They at least would have made her current location more interesting.

Puck had invited her to a party in Columbus. Of all her Glee Club friends, only he had contacted her when she posted on facebook that she was back in Lima. She knew that most of them were still finishing up their finals, but she had hoped that at least the glee kids still in high school would say something. Still, an invite to a party was more than she had expected, and so she agreed.

Of course, she had forgotten how boring parties could be if you didn’t know anyone there. She didn’t want to stick to Puck’s side all night like a loser. Rachel didn’t really know where the party she was at ranked as far as quality, but the house didn’t look like it belonged to drug dealers, at least. It felt safe enough to wander around and smile benignly at strangers. She had a few drinks, danced with a guy who wasn’t completely wasted, and then shrugged when the guy started cheering some other girl who was completely wasted and was stripping on a table.

She found Puck with a few…acquaintances discussing the finer points of guitar craftsmanship, something that Rachel had become more knowledgeable about since she began college. After months of living in a confined space with four people (and one mooching boyfriend) that lived and breathed guitar and bass she had enough knowledge to follow the conversation and ask intelligent questions.

Of course, she didn’t actually _care_ all that much about guitars. They made for pleasant accompaniment when she sang but were otherwise useless to her.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to use the ladies room.”

Puck barked a laugh. “Good luck finding it. If guys offer you any pills, don’t take them.”

Rachel bristled. “I’m not a fool, Noah. I do live in New York, you know.”

He just laughed again. “Yeah I know.”

Rachel huffed as she stalked away. She was almost immediately impeded by a group of rowdy boys stumbling by. She jerked to an unsteady stop, barely avoiding the beer that sloshed over the lip of one of the boy’s cups, and felt her cheeks heat at the continued sound of Puck’s laughter behind her.

Moving through the house was a slow process. She found a restroom relatively easily, but the toilet was out of order, the bowl half full of a nearly black liquid that Rachel didn’t want to know the ingredients of.

There was a couple having sex in one of the back rooms, and Rachel had to sneak past a few guys with cellphone cameras fixed on the scene. The last thing she needed was to show up in an amateur porn, even as a bystander.

Hoping for better luck on the upper floor, Rachel took to the stairs, which was an adventure by itself with all the bodies passing up and down.

She didn’t really need to pee so badly that she couldn’t wait until she returned home, but every time she contemplated giving up and returning to Noah or going to get another drink, a strange sort of niggling feeling ate at her that she should keep going.

Finally, after another wrong turn and nearly getting run over by a group of giggling girls, Rachel managed to locate the master bedroom, which was mercifully empty. She crossed to the en suite door quickly and tossed it open.

For a house of that size, the bathroom was rather large. She opened the door into an entry room that had a counter with his and her sinks and a medicine cabinet. To her right was a small door to a linen closet and to her left a door that opened up into the rest of the bathroom. It was ajar, so she didn’t bother calling out or knocking before she entered.

The toilet was just inside the second door, there was a shower further to the right and around the corner she assumed there was a bathtub. Not taking the time to look around, she did her business quickly and prepared to leave before a drunken partier attempted to find the one functioning bathroom as well. Just before her finger found the lever to flush the toilet, she thought she heard something. A low moan.

She stood very still for several seconds, but could only hear the distant sounds of loud music from further in the house.

“Hello? Is someone there?” she tried, just in case.

When silence answered her, Rachel once again began to leave. She was at the door to the master bedroom when something stopped her. Leaving felt like a bad idea.

_I’ll just check. I want to know what the sound was._

Resolved, she turned right back around and marched into the main bathroom like she owned the place.  Rounding the corner near the shower, she saw that the other end of the room was taken up by a large ornate bathtub, and someone was laying in it.

The woman was fully dressed, shoes, jeans, a t-shirt, and sprawled out in the bottom of the bathtub. Her whole body was limp, her left leg was on the edge of the tub, foot dangling, her right was bent at the knee and leaning against the opposite side of the tub. Her right arm was hidden, the left curled against her chest, and her head was also on the lip of the tub, cheek squished and golden blonde hair limply falling across her face.

What really drew Rachel’s attention was the blood. There was blood everywhere. On the side of the tub, on the woman’s face and neck, soaking her t-shirt, even some on the wall. For a moment that was all she could see, just the bright red against the white porcelain, but when the girl made that same choked sound, her eyes were drawn to the girl’s pale pained face. She took a few halting steps closer, but then she froze as recognition swept over her.

“Quinn.”

Rachel couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. She wanted to look away, didn’t want to see, but her eyes were locked on Quinn. Rachel had never been particularly squeamish before, but what she was seeing was burning a trail of fear and nausea through her body all the way up to her brain. She drew in a sharp gasp and choked at the back of her throat.

Rachel was honestly surprised that she had recognized Quinn at all. She was so thin. Her eyes stared out of two hollowed out spaces in her skull, her cheekbones and jaw were offered in sharp relief. Her eyes were dull and unfocused, pupils large in the half light. Rachel had a feeling that Quinn couldn’t actually see her, or was looking past her.

She looked sick, a skeleton covered in sallow skin. Rachel couldn’t believe that Quinn had changed so much in such a short time. They had seen each other less than six months ago. That didn’t seem like enough time for someone to change so drastically, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

And behind Rachel, the sounds of the party carried on like nothing life altering was happening while her feet were nailed to the floor. In the tub, Quinn blinked, long and slow, a sort of pained sigh slipping out. That’s all it took to unstick Rachel from her position, and she somehow found herself on her knees in front of Quinn, a towel in one hand and Quinn’s bloody wrist in the other.

“Oh God, Quinn,” Rachel heard, only distantly aware that she was the one that said it. Quinn made no move or sound to acknowledge her, but she was breathing, and that was enough for Rachel. She wrapped the towel around Quinn’s arm, only drawing a hurt squeak out of Quinn’s throat. It was only after she was finished that Rachel realized that she wouldn’t be able to pull Quinn out of the bathtub without help.

Puck.

Puck could lift Quinn.

Later, Rachel wouldn’t be able to recall how she had managed to find Puck. She could barely remember leaving Quinn’s side. She knew she had turned, and stumbled when she tried to stand. She had caught herself with a hand against the wall and when she managed to right herself, there had been a bloody handprint on the beige paint.

And then she was crying in front of Puck, whose expression was increasingly worried and confused.

“Rachel, slow down! I can’t understand you. What happened?”

“You have to come! You have to come right now. She’s in a lot of trouble and I can’t get her out of the tub.”

Puck looked at her like she was crazy. She didn’t care, she felt crazy. Her heart and a fair amount of fear induced bile was trying to work its way up her throat. There just wasn’t any time!

“Just come on!”

She turned and ran back the way she had come, pushing past people rudely. She didn’t care. Puck called out for her to slow down, and she heard more cursing from behind her as he struggled to keep up.

Every obstacle that ran across her path was demolished by her desire to return to Quinn’s side as soon as possible. She hoped against everything that Quinn was still holding on. Fear of failure made her move faster and more forcefully. She screamed at people to move out of her way and, amazingly, they did as she careened past them.

The door to the bathroom was still open. She didn’t slow down enough to avoid being painfully hip checked by the counter before she hurled herself through the second door and around the corner to find Quinn just as she’d left her.

“Oh fuck.”

“Jesus Christ!”

Puck and his friend came to a halt behind her, but Puck snapped into action quickly. He pushed Rachel aside and pulled Quinn up from under her arms. Rachel saw Quinn’s eyes roll and she let out a quiet moan of pain, but otherwise she didn’t react, even when Puck pulled her backwards out of the tub and her legs hit the tile limply. Rachel was at his side as soon as Quinn was free of the tub, taking Quinn into her arms instead of letting Puck lay her on the ground.

“Call an ambulance and start clearing out the house,” Puck demanded, and Rachel assumed he must have been talking to his friend, because there was no way she was capable of any more than holding on to Quinn.

“Will an ambulance get here in time?”

“I don’t know, but I’m too drunk to drive. I don’t even know where the hospital is.”

“Right.”

Puck pulled the bright red towel away from Quinn’s arm and gave a surprised hiss at what he saw. “Jesus! What did she do? Get run over by a lawn mower?”

Rachel snatched the towel back and wrapped it around Quinn’s arm again, but she didn’t know if it was doing any good, saturated as it was.

“You stay with her here. I’m going to go help Kellan.”

Rachel nodded and he left.

Every second felt like an hour. Each breath that Quinn took scared Rachel, sure that the one before had been her last. Rachel’s own shirt was soon sporting red blotches. She wasn’t sure how she kept from bursting into tears again.

“Hold on, Quinn,” Rachel whispered right against Quinn’s ear. “Just hold on. It’s going to be okay.”

Quinn was silent and pale, but Rachel could feel tiny little puffs of air against her neck. She held Quinn in her lap and prayed for the first time in a long while.

**x**


	2. Mid-Western Hospitality

_Ration time and wait for sleep_  
One will reflect, one will defeat  
Imagine me at seventeen  
Depressed and thin, homecoming queen

**x**

Quinn opened her eyes and immediately snapped them shut again when bright light screamed over them. Several pained tears slipped out and she jerked her head to the side before trying to open her eyes again. When she finally managed to keep her eyes open, it was to find that her vision was swimming enough to make her feel nauseous. And her head, she could feel her heart beat thrumming through her temples. She simultaneously felt like she was being pressed in on from all sides and floating outside of herself about three inches to her left.

She closed her eyes again, hoping that the darkness would help ease her stomach. She breathed deeply and rhythmically, teeth clenched like it would help keep the contents of her stomach down. After several minutes to became aware that she was breathing in tandem with a steady beeping coming from somewhere to her left. She listened to it for a while, trying to understand why it sounded so familiar. It was like trying to find a word that was just on the tip of her tongue, waiting for her to figure it out.

Heart monitor. It was a heart monitor. Heart monitors go in hospitals.

Hospital. She was in a hospital.

_How'd I get in a fucking hospital?_

Slowly, carefully, she opened her eyes again, adjusting to the light a little at a time until she was able to open them fully without her sight being affected.

The room was private and typical of what could be expected. The blinds were pulled on the window but sunlight sneaked around the edges anyway, and the small tv mounted opposite her bed was on some sitcom but the sound was turned down too low for her to hear it.

Quinn saw the empty chair by her bed and her chest felt tighter, but she wasn't really surprised. She looked down at her left arm and frowned at the bandages that covered her from wrist to elbow. A fuzzy memory of seeing the razor blade in the bathroom tugged at her. She hadn't done it to get attention.

She hadn't even done it to die.

She'd just…done it.

The door to the bathroom opened suddenly and Quinn jerked in surprise. She was even more surprised to see Rachel Berry exiting, still drying her hands on a paper towel.

"Oh! You're awake."

_Way to state the obvious._

Quinn tried to push herself up, but pain shot up her left arm as soon as she put pressure on it, and so her efforts left her half on her side. She bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out.

"Here, let me help."

Not having much of a choice, Quinn allowed Rachel to haul her into a sitting position and raise the back of the bed. Quinn's skin prickled unpleasantly under Rachel's hands and she pulled away with as much force as she could manage, which wasn't a lot but Rachel was reading body language for once and didn't let her touch linger.

Once Quinn was arranged more comfortably Rachel backed away and delicately sat in the chair by the bed, hands tucking her skirt under her automatically. Quinn nearly scoffed at how short Rachel's skirt was, at how it showed off the perfect tan skin of her thighs. She looked away and focused on the TV instead.

Neither of them spoke. Quinn stared at the silent characters acting on the screen. It was Seinfeld, she realized after a moment. She hated Seinfeld. She glanced around but didn't see the remote anywhere. It was either watch the show or talk to Rachel. She kept her eyes on the TV.

"Your mother's here," Rachel offered up gamely, trying to draw Quinn's attention. She saw Quinn's shoulders stiffen, but there was no reaction otherwise. "She went to go get some coffee. I told her I'd sit with you."

_Ah, so that's why she's here._

"What's the damage?" she rasped out. She was just so tired, even that little bit had made her need to breathe heavier.

"You lost a lot of blood," Rachel's voice shook, "you nearly died."

Quinn hummed and glanced over at her. Their eyes caught and held for a long silent moment and Quinn willed herself not to react.

"I will never forget, Quinn," Rachel said suddenly, her dark eyes dipping closed even as she ducked her head, running both hands through her long hair. "It'll stay with me forever."

Quinn was pretty sure she knew what Rachel was talking about, but she found the question slipping out anyway. "What?"

"The way you looked in that tub…" Rachel trailed off, just a little choked.

Quinn looked away again. She didn't like the way her heart clenched at Rachel's tone. To her embarrassment the heart monitor registered it, but Rachel didn't seem to pay it any attention.

"Why did you do it?" Rachel watched Quinn carefully for any sign that she would respond, when all she got was the twitch of Quinn's jaw muscle, she sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. "The doctor said you had traces of heroin and cocaine in your system." Quinn's silence remained stony. "I just don't understand how you, how Quinn Fabray, could fall into drugs."

Quinn's jaw was clenched so tightly that she wasn't even sure if she could relax enough to retort, so she didn't. She wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction. She refused to admit that she'd done anything wrong, that she'd failed just about as badly as anyone could.

"I never thought you were a coward. When did that happen?"

Her teeth felt like they might just crack under the pressure she was exerting now. The rage that always ran under the surface of her thoughts had been quicker to call up since she started using, and it was so nice to imagine just leaping out of her hospital bed and tearing that look off of Rachel's face with her bare hands.

Despite herself, she thought about Rachel's question.

Quinn thought about being high, seeing spots of colored light and wisps of smoke in blue and green. She felt like her heart was made out of hummingbird wings. Every inch of her ached for it. That blissful, divine feeling of floating outside of herself. It was so hard to just be herself without any additives. Just being the failure with nothing to take the edge off the pain. It just made her feel better, feel less like dying would be better.

Such a disappointment. She had seen it in her parents' eyes so many times, had suffered under it, and in it, and was never able to get above it. No matter how hard she beat her arms against the water it just dragged her deeper and deeper.

_Like I'd ever tell her that._

And Rachel sat there, with her legs crossed at the knee, prissy and self-righteous, and asked when Quinn became a coward. Like she had some sort of right to say it. She didn't understand. She had always been brave, always rubbed her greatness and talent and superiority right in Quinn's face. She thumbed her nose at Quinn's hard won popularity like it meant nothing. Like Quinn meant nothing.

What kind of answer could she even give to that sort of question? She'd always been a fucking coward, not that it was any of Rachel's business. The accusation in her tone made Quinn's rage flair, but it was directionless. She was always angry, it was pretty much her only emotion at that point.

Quinn wasn't sure if her mother's arrival at that moment was a blessing or just further proof that she was in hell.

"Oh, you're awake."

Quinn rolled her eyes _. Is that all anyone can think to say?_

Rachel smiled stiffly and stood. "I'll wait outside."

Judy waited until the door had closed behind Rachel before she settled in the vacated chair. Quinn looked at anything she could to avoid looking at her mother's face. She didn't want to see what she knew would be there. She was too accustomed to it already.

"The doctors say that your arm will scar badly without further surgery. I can get in contact with Dr. Smith again if you'd like. She did such a lovely job on your nose."

Quinn had the sudden urge to slap her mother. She clinched her fists instead. "I can talk to her myself if I want."

Judy sighed. "Of course you can dear. I just thought you might like a reminder that you don't have to live with those awful scars."

"If you're just here to discuss my various imperfections, there's no need. I'm well aware of them on my own."

"Are you?"

Quinn was starting to think she'd snap her own jaw with how often she was clenching her teeth. She huffed and started to rhythmically clench and unclench her fists. She couldn't feel her left arm at all, but she could feel the tight pain in her right and it helped to ground her.

Finally, Judy broke the silence. "I thought you were better than this, Quinnie."

Shame settled over her like a heavy blanket, neatly covering and smothering out her anger. She found that she couldn't meet her mother's tired gaze and instead focused intently on the looping weave of the hospital covers draped over her legs.

It was the disappointment again. It had always done her in. In a way she supposed her parents had done one thing right, since she could be so easily cowed.

When Quinn failed to respond, her mother continued. "I'm not going to enable you to continue making horrible mistakes."

"That's rich," Quinn spat before she could stop herself. She could feel her face twisting into some horrible grimace. In a way, she was surprised that her mother had even touched upon the elephant in the room, even if it was in a roundabout way. "You cut me off last month. I've been living with friends."

_Some friends. Haven't even been to see me. Probably all still passed out._

Her mother ignored her and continued. "I'm putting you through detox but after that, it's up to you."

"Wow, your support means so much to me."

"I'm done, Quinn."

"Yeah well I'm tired. Bye." Quinn closed her eyes and bit down hard on the inside of her mouth to keep from crying. She willed away the tears building up in her eyes. She was strong, she'd think of some way out of this mess. She had been on her own this way before. The last thing she was going to do was beg her mother for help.

She heard her mother sigh deeply, like the world was on her shoulders. Quinn hated her more than ever in that moment. Her mother stood and silently walked to the door. Quinn measured her progress by the sound of her heels clicking on the tile. The door opened and then closed. Quinn waited another minute before opening her eyes.

Rachel was standing at the door.

"I couldn't help but overhear."

Quinn sneered. "I'll just bet."

Rachel bit her bottom lip and Quinn purposefully looked away. "If you don't have anywhere to stay, I'm sure my fathers would let you stay in our guest room until I go back to New York."

Quinn's instinctual reaction was to violently decline, but she managed to stop herself just in time. She knew she was stuck in the hospital for the next few days, but after that she literally had no plan. She would be on the streets unless her friends let her come back. With no money, no job, nothing to sell, and no leverage, she was basically useless to them. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said instead, hesitant in her delivery.

Rachel sat up straighter in the chair, her eyes wide and bright. Quinn kept her expression impassive. "Of course it is! You need a place to stay and I really want to help you."

Quinn frowned, honestly puzzled. "Why?"

"We're friends Quinn, that's what friends do. And it's the right thing to do, which is what I will be telling my fathers when I explain the situation." Rachel looked down at her hands, her eyes brimming with tears. "I wouldn't feel right not offering. Not after how I found you. I want to help you get better Quinn."

Quinn nearly told Rachel to go fuck herself. Her sincere expression was sickening. She looked away, pretending to contemplate it.

"I'm sure they'll let you stay, at least until you get out of rehab."

Quinn scoffed. "Like I can pay for rehab."

"Don't worry about it, Quinn. I'm sure my fathers wouldn't mind lending you the money."

Quinn didn't really see the harm in trying. The worst the Berry's could do would be to say no and she would be no worse off than she was already. Rehab was expensive. She could take that money and set out with it, find a new niche somewhere.

"I really appreciate all you're doing for me Rachel," she said finally, her voice quavering just a little. Just enough to sell it.

"You'll stay with me?" Rachel was so excited that Quinn almost felt bad.

"If your dads say I can. Yeah."

Rachel leaped forward off the chair and took both of Quinn's hands between her own. "They will. Don't worry, Quinn. You'll be back to normal in no time. I promise."

Quinn smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm in awe at how much you guys wanted this fic. I'm hoping this chapter lives up to your expectations. It was really hard to write, not content wise, but just because I really can't get into glee anymore. I know a lot of us feel that way, but it just makes it hard to write.
> 
> Big thanks to Professorspork, Ellsbells, Poetzproblem, and DoomKitteh
> 
> I got a new job. It is awful. But also wonderful at the same time? Like, I wish there was less actual poop handling that went on, but the ladies I take care of are pretty awesome. (24 ladies, only 3 are ambulatory, and they all have a diagnosis of either Profound or Severe Mental Retardation.)
> 
> Anyway. Good news! I will be at FaberryCon North. Hopefully I'll see you there!

**Author's Note:**

> MASSIVE DISCLIMER FOR THIS WHOLE FIC: I am not a drug addict. I am not an alcoholic. I have never engaged in purposeful self-harm. I have never gone beyond very vague suicidal ideation. I do not claim to be an expert in any of these areas; however I do know experts in each area. I have sought and will continue to seek their thoughts on any large ideas that get presented, but I urge you all to remember that it is a work of fiction, and it cannot realistically align with every individual’s experiences with any of these matters. I will strive to show proper respect to all of these issues.  
> Further, the chapters will be of varying lengths and will mostly be in Rachel and Quinn’s point of view, though others might join in occasionally. It would not be wise to expect 10,000 word chapters out of this fic. It’s not built for it. Don’t be too disappointed. We’re probably looking at a grand total of 60,000 words, tops.


End file.
